It's Kind of Their Thing
by ChasDancey
Summary: A manly fluff story, a "man-fluff",  France has possessed me and put a totally dirty connotation on that innocent combination of innocent words, pertaining to the brotherhood of the North American twins. A one-shot.


"MATTIE! WHAT THE HELL? WHY ARE YOU WAVING AN AXE AROUND?" Alfred's shouted out, trying to mask the high-pitched girlish scream he'd let out previously as he had dived out of the way. He'd barely missed the swing coming with intent to chop his arm clean off.

"Oh… it's just you Al." Matthew lazily tossed the large axe off to some darkened corner of the living room. "Wait…" Matthew paused and brought a hand up to rub his temples tiredly. "Why are you breaking into my house at two in the morning with a burlap sack and some rope?"

Alfred tried desperately to hide the sack and rope behind his back and gave a sheepish smile towards the arched eyebrow and knowing smirk that Matthew held. "Well Matthew, as the amazing hero that I am, I figured that I should save you." Matthew opened his mouth to inquire further but Alfred held up a hand and began to nod his head as if he were the wisest man in the world. …Which in Alfred's opinion… he was. "You see Mattie, sometimes you have to force someone to do something, because really, it's for their own good. And-"

"So… what exactly is for 'my own good' that you couldn't just, oh I don't know, ASK me about?" Matthew chuckled to himself, tilting his head slightly to the side. "You know… it must've been pretty 'out there' if you went to his much effort… I mean… the last time you tried to kidnap me was in the seventies and that's just 'cause you wanted someone to watch The Exorcist with... So what movie is it this time Al?"

Alfred quickly killed the blush that tried to creep up his cheeks from Matthew's words; Hero's don't get embarrassed, he had to always remind himself this when Matthew called him out… constantly. Shaking his head rapidly from side and to side and trying to gather his words, Alfred quickly repositioned himself, hands clasped firmly behind his back and legs spread slightly apart. A determined glint arose in his eyes and sparked through the glasses. Releasing one of his hands he brought it out and pointed towards Matthew. "This time it's not a scary movie Matthew. We've both matured far past that since then. This time… it's the REAL thing."

"So… you want me to perform an exorcism on you?" Matthew grinned broadly, and knowingly misinterpreting Alfred. "I mean… I can try Al… but it'll be really hard to get a priest at this time of night and if you remember the last time we tried this, you were missing your finger for-"

"Urban exploration Mattie! Urban exploration!" Alfred gave a small glare to Matthew's slight mocking of him and his past mistakes. He couldn't help it if he thought he'd been possessed… and… they were drunk. In his defense, Matthew had went along with it too, a little too enthusiastically at that. Alfred knew for a fact the man hadn't been half as drunk as him, even if they had drunken the same amount that night.

"So you want to go walk around an old, allegedly haunted, falling apart, probably asbestos filled, building, and it's probably considered trespassing and breaking and entering… at two-ish in the morning?"

Alfred nodded enthusiastically, and began to prepare himself to give some of the biggest puppy dog eyes he'd used yet. Even if Alfred was sure that Matthew never gave into the puppy dog eyes not because of how cute they were, but actually because he felt pity that Alfred would sink to such depths. "So?" Alfred bobbed his head back and forth, expecting an outright no.

"Fuck yes." Matthew breathed out, a mad grin running across his face and his eyes getting the glint Alfred missed so much. He could remember when that glint was always there, ALWAYS. It was when they were kids… before the Europeans arrived… when they'd run around wildly, freely- jumping off cliffs and into the lakes, chasing down rabbits and bears. When Matthew disappeared into the north and came back riding on a polar bear… Before they were turned against each other… before they were colonized, before they hurt each other at the hearts, burning down capitals, before Alfred tried to impose the Manifest Destiny.

And it hadn't been only them back then, there'd been others, other's that had just seemed to turn into the whispers in the wind.

But Alfred would never admit he could hear the wind, ancient voices, whispering to him at times. He'd shake it off, get paranoid it was a ghost, and run to Matthew for help and comforting. Crazy, mystical, mumbo-jumbo and magic were England's forte and God knows Alfred didn't want to be like that senile old man…

So Alfred pushed the past away, pushed away those good times he used to always share with Matthew.

Since those times in the past, it was rare for Alfred to see that glint, that spark, that shine, that glow of adventure, of pride, of confidence, of pure and utter madness pouring out of Matthew. The only times he'd see it were during battles, during the world wars and even then it took on a different impression. It wasn't the healthy look like now; it wasn't the joyous one either. It was one filled with pure darkness, freezing, coating the bones of those who caught it with ice instantly. It made him look as if his heart was battered, damaged, torn beyond repair, and frozen over permanently, and that scared Alfred the most. He was scared that that was the truth of the matter.

Shaking off the memories, Alfred felt two grins trace his lips. There was the excited one for what was about to ensue, and the one that wasn't visible on the outside, the sappy grin. The one that was glad to have his (well, even if officially nation-wise he wasn't… land mass and having people to call his, Matthew was), big brother back, even if like always, it would only be for a few hours.

Throwing his arm around the taller nations shoulder's, Alfred tilted his head and nodded thoughtfully. "You know Mattie… it's funny how you only seem to swear around me or Kuma-whatsit."

Matthew gave a shy smile as they began their trek to the front door. Bending over to pull up his red tartan pajama bottom and slip into his checkered Vans, Matthew replied softly, "Well I don't want to be rude to people I don't really know…"

"Oh? But you're rude to the hero?" Alfred gasped out. "Man Mattie… you must be real stoopid. Clearly, you should be the most polite to the hero! …Me. If you didn't…you know… get it… 'cause you're stupid."

Rolling his eyes, Matthew straightened out his back before jogging back through the oak arch to his living room. He picked up the axe he'd previously carried and began to make his way back to the hall. Easily carrying the metal and wood, and swinging it back and forth in his hand playfully, Matthew reappeared smiling madly (in a good way) once more. "Aiight! Let's do this!"

As Alfred whipped open the door and began to strut (hero's don't walk) his way to the car, Matthew passed through the frame after him, only pausing the slam the door shut. "Man… it's so nice out tonight eh? Lord thunderin' Jesus… Al! It's like fifteen degrees out here!" Matthew happily called, a Newfie accent slipping through, from the porch before bounding his way down it and jogging up to the car sloppily parked on his driveway… and judging from the tire marks, Alfred had clearly decided that he felt like drifting into spot.

"FIFTEEN DEGREES? Matt…you really are an idiot! If it were fifteen degrees out we'd be dead… besides… it's like… fifty-nine out here… it's barely even kind of warm… which it is not warm, at least not for March... in Cali." Alfred prattled on as he shoved the key into the door of the '69 Mustang and twisted it.

Matthew rolled his eyes and waited as Alfred ripped open his door and practically leaped into his seat. Leaning over, Alfred quickly unlocked the passenger door and went on to adjusting himself, clearly getting ready for a long drive. Matthew pulled the handle and obviously the door came with it. Sliding into the car, he placed the large axe at his feet and closed the door behind him. After clicking his seatbelt in, Matthew began to drum a beat on his thighs and bob his head to a song by one of his country's many bands.

Alfred's eyes shot a glance at the axe before shooting back up to Matthew who had began to hum happily. Shaking his head, Alfred turned the ignition and put the car into gear. "Man, I thought you carried a hockey stick around, not an axe."

"Damn it man, I'm a lumberjack, not a fortune cookie writer! You know this." Matthew laughed, doing his best impersonation of Dr McCoy.

"Star Trek. Started in the original series. Dr Leonard McCoy. Also used in, my latest, AWESOME version of Star Trek. The new one."

"Bingo. And yes. I fucking LOVE that movie."

"Anyways, so WHY do you have the axe when I'm around?"

"Because you need to be put into line by somebody… God knows Arthur failed at it." Matthew smirked at the first part of the line, remembering the times he'd made his brother cry. For the second part he shook his head sadly, almost in a disappointed way.

"Ah… Good times… kind of… How is old Artie anyways? Haven't seen him since the last meeting." Alfred chuckled to himself, smiling… kind of, at the memories… while, the ones where he was pissing Arthur, England, off.

"He's… drinking tea?" Matthew offered with a shrug, he wouldn't bother to discuss Britain's politics with Alfred, even if the guy was smart about marketing and business, Lord knows he was somehow a genius there, he was completely and utterly ignorant to the things happening outside his old little world called the United States.

"He would be." Alfred smirked, before once again shaking his head and trying to get back to the point. "So why do you have that axe?"

"Because I love you." Matthew replied with a straight face but even with the quick glance, Alfred could see the laughter in his eyes… he was jealous of how easily Matthew masked all his emotions… but it did make sense, since you know, a lot of great Hollywood Actors made the trip down from the Great White North.

"So I married an axe murderer?" Alfred couldn't help but slip the reference into the conversation. It was kind of their thing, references to North American pop culture at every turn, just because they shared it, because they could, and because sometimes, it even was like their own inside jokes that nobody but them understood.

"Great movie. And yes. Yes you did." Matthew replied hand fiddling around with the dials on the old radio, trying to find a station to listen to… and just playing with it for no good reason other than to be fiddling with something. "But yeah, anyways, uh… I carry a hockey stick to meetings because I don't want to like… scare the other countries, you know?" Matthew left out the last line, _I mean, they already barely know me now, I'd rather them not know me because they think I'm going to kill them all. _Even if sometimes it played out to his advantage a lot to be essentially invisible at times (and he really did use it to his advantage at meetings), it still irked him just a bit.

Alfred nodded to himself, he could understand not wanting the rest of the world to be terrified of you, because he'd look at how lonely that damn Commie Russia was… though he deserved it… Matthew didn't. Matthew was the best friend he'd ever had, his brother, and Alfred would protect him no matter what, both nation and person. "True… I mean… you are an, ahem, 'peace keeper'. …You wimp." Alfred chuckled at his last comment. As long as he had Matthew there to joke around with him and have fun with at the end of the day, Alfred was truly happy.

Alfred would make sure Matthew never became a whisper in the wind like the others, he'd make sure he'd never push him their. And he prayed every night he wouldn't kill Matthew off without knowing it like he had to so many others.

"Whatever… at least I don't try to rule the world saying that I'm trying to help them." Matthew smirked at his reply.

"NOO! I'M A HERO! HERROOOOOO! WE SAVE YOU PEOPLE!"

"Right… whatever helps you sleep at night… HOLY SHIT! Keep your eyes on the road you douche fag."

"Douche fag?"

"I like it more than douche bag…"

"Me too."

"Exactly."

* * *

Yeah… so that's it… my first time writing a Hetalia fic… SO much harder than normal ones, Jebus.

So some notes:

Yes I'm aware I spelt stoopid wrong, I spelt it like that more for the pronunciation.

And Matthew was probably OOC to a lot of people… but I don't know, maybe as a Canadian myself I want to show a different side to the nation? Iunno :P

And yeah. C'est tout.


End file.
